


Just Humour Him

by FurryBigProblem



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Excessive Drinking, Gen, M/M, Past Character Death, Translation in English, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 21:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14656281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FurryBigProblem/pseuds/FurryBigProblem
Summary: “The next time he is thus, just humour him.”





	Just Humour Him

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [敷衍](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/381081) by 一世了. 



Legolas knew he had drunk more than he should have, but he still knew the distinction between “having drunk more than he should have” and “being drunk”. Although he now blinked much more slowly than usual and his vision was becoming increasingly blurred, he could still recgonise the redhead beside him as one of his own people.

 

Instead of the shorter figure that had accompanied him for decades.

 

“ ‘Tis strong liquor.” Legolas laughed, testing his hands, “I haven’t for many years drunk till my fingers are tingling.”

 

Immortality is a dull business and one immortal being never understands the preciousness of life, he thought. He seemed to recall being wounded in battle. It was supposed to be an honorable thing, only it had been so long Legolas could no longer remember where the wound was.

 

“Your Highness, you have drunk too much.”

 

Oh, right. The wound was not on him, Legolas realised. It was on the shoulder of the red-haired person.

 

It was a swift cut. At the moment, Legolas was focusing on the enemy in front of him. Although he had sensed the blow coming from behind, he had no time to respond. He had been prepared to take the knife when he heard an agonised cry and the sound of a body falling.

 

“Gimli-”

 

“Your Highness, you are drunk.” The one beside him said.

 

Legolas’ mind cleared somewhat. He repeated the word “drunk”. Really. But he had always felt thus when he was with him. Ah. Him? Who is “him”? Legolas could only remember that he had unruly red hair, fiery temper and a skillfully-wielded axe.

 

As for his name, haply it had been too long, for Legolas no longer knew.

 

“I’m fine.” he gave his hand a wave and drained his goblet.

 

\-----

 

By the time Thranduil arrived at the cellar, Legolas was already slumped over the table, asleep.

 

“What happened.” He asked with a frown.

 

“My lord,” the red-haired elf beside Legolas bowed to his king, “Prince Legolas has been thus all these years.”

 

The Elven King approached his son. Legolas’ face was covered with tear streaks, but his expression was eerily peaceful.

 

“Prepare for his sailing west,” Thranduil summoned elves to carry Legolas back to his room, then told the redhead, “the next time he is thus, just humour him.”


End file.
